


To Follow the Light

by Tejoxys



Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Canon Continuation, Drama, Fluff and Angst, Immortality is Hard Work, Jack pov, Multi, Multishipping, Pitch redemption fic, Polyshipping, Romance, Slow Burn, The Slowest Slow Burn that Ever Burnt Slowly
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-18
Updated: 2018-03-16
Packaged: 2018-10-20 08:49:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10659105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tejoxys/pseuds/Tejoxys
Summary: Everyone has to start cleaning up after the events of the movie. Not having worked closely for some time, it’s exhilarating but also a strain. Jack has a few problems: 1) still feeling partly responsible for the mess; 2) adjusting to new restrictions on his behavior; and 3) trying to actually come to grips with the memories he got back.But everyone else has problems, too. Will this be their chance to finally set right everything that went wrong leading up to Pitch's murderous bid for power? And what about Pitch?***This fic will be heavily blackice, but it does take a long time to get there. I hope it will be worth the wait.





	1. The Tooth Palace

Golden flakes of dreamsand fell away, the powder-blue sky deepening before them in the sleigh’s rapid climb. Out on one of its wings, Jack yawned around the popping of his ears and stared into the lightening horizon. _What a night_. It was all too much, such a swell of joy that he fought to stay still. He wanted to rocket off around the globe, yell, laugh, gown the world in works of crystalline beauty to honor each member of his new family…

If there were tears in his eyes, they only made the sunshine brighter.

North was the one to break the cozy silence.

“So! Good show, my friends,” he said heartily, keeping his attention straight ahead. “And now, we begin the real work. I think our first priority must be the Tooth Palace, yes?”

Jack was still dazed, reliving his first ever hug from a real, live child. The word ‘work’ filtered in from far away. “Huh?”

Bunnymund and Sandy broke off whispering to each other in the back seat—well, half-whispering, and half-teeny-tiny-sand-signing. “Already?” said Bunny. “I’m good to go, but—”

A sharp gasp from Tooth cut him off. “Oh, no! The teeth! And the rest of my fairies, they’re still down there with…” She stopped, blinking. “Wait a minute. North! You didn’t!”

Jack turned fully around. “What’s going on?”

Tooth laughed and flitted to the front to hug North around one massive shoulder. “Where are they? Oh, at the Workshop?”

“Was easiest and fastest,” North said, waving a hand apologetically. “I did not think anywhere in your realm had a flat surface big enough.”

“That’s just fine. Thank you! We’ll start sorting them by time zone right there, and then…”

“North must’ve nabbed the teeth from Pitch while we were all distracted,” Bunny explained to Jack, as Tooth outlined her plan for North. “I did wonder why there weren’t more yetis on the field. Getting back to your roots, eh, Nick?”

North flashed a wink over his shoulder.

“Should we really start with me, though?” Tooth zipped around to perch across from Bunny. “The Warren is kind of… you know.”

Bunny shook his head. “She’ll be right. Next time I get my feet on the ground, I’ll set it to raining, wash the worst of it into the soil. Should bide all right for a time. Plants will like it.”

Sandy chimed in with something Jack didn’t catch, and Tooth nodded. “Okay. To the Pole?”

“To the Pole,” agreed North. He pulled out a snow globe.

So it was starting right now? Just like that? Jack’s head spun. He clambered into the sleigh and wedged himself into the seat on Sandy’s other side.

Bunny caught Jack’s staff when he fumbled, and laid it safely across the floor. “You feeling the heat, Frostbite?” he said kindly.

Some of Jack’s nervousness eased. “Never been better.” He held out his hands. The two of them linked arms around Sandy’s middle, Sandy covering his face with both hands, grinning hugely. Tooth tucked herself into the few inches of bench in front of Sandy, giggling when the little Guardian reached out to grab her around the waist.

“We’re all buckled in,” called Jack.

North shot a glare behind him. “What! You save a little of that for me! We have group hug at the Pole!”

The snow globe flashed in the new sunlight. Jack clung to his laughing friends as the peaceful dawn vanished in a rush of light and color.

*

Mostly, what Jack would remember about those first few weeks was motion. Golden boxes flipping through the air, making Tooth shriek and then laugh when she saw that nothing was broken. Tiny fairies lifting boxes in teams of three. Tiny fairies swarming all over the sleigh during transport of active units. Lights shining inside burlap sacks. It was ceaseless, feverish work, frequently dissolving into racing games with Bunny, though North wasn’t much better at staying serious. Sandy did his best to help whenever his schedule brought him within range.

The first step was simply to separate active boxes from inactive ones. The Workshop’s basement levels, with their massive tracts of floor space, soon looked like a river of gold. Next, everyone joined in transporting the active teeth, region by region. And all of this, of course, with new teeth streaming in around the clock.

The inactive units would be the last to make the trip back to Punjam Hy Loo. Tooth insisted she could do that by herself, a little at a time over months, if she had to. Nobody was going to let that fly, Bunny least of all. North finally made the two of them set the argument aside until the worst was over.

“We fix Toothie, we fix Bunny, we go back to Toothie. The year is long enough for all of us,” he said in a tone that brooked no disagreement. “Now we focus on the task at hand, yes?”

Within hours, Jack felt like he’d never done anything else in his life. Time started doing that blurry thing that happens to immortals when they get invested in something. He’d felt it sometimes when he used to retreat to the cold regions for uninterrupted years at a time, but never quite like this. It was easy to understand how the others had turned into workaholics in the first place.

It wasn’t just the magnitude of the project. Moving a fuckton of boxes from one place to another? Not so bad. Intimidating, but it could be done. But that was only the beginning. Kids had been really, truly scared. He’d known that. It was why he had finally chosen to fight, wasn’t it? Kids got scared sometimes, and bad things happened, and the Guardians were there to help. It seemed so simple.

Tooth’s habit of talking to her fairies about the teeth shattered that illusion fast. She was fundamentally a tracker; she knew which kids were prone to sadness, anxiety, rage, disturbed sleep. She usually knew why. Working alongside her, Jack heard everything.

 _The worst threat we have ever faced_ , North had said, not so long ago. Jack remembered laughing when he heard who their enemy was.

Kids got scared, and bad things happened. Oh, yes, they did. Some kids had been injured in accidents while sleep-deprived; others had injured themselves on purpose. Kids had been attacked by siblings and classmates—or been the attackers, themselves. There were physical ailments brought on by stress. Kids already on the edge had run away from home.

Tooth’s commentary dwindled to variations on, “Oh, no,” and finally to nothing.

The worst part was realizing that some children had died during those terrible few days. Not _because_ of what had happened, just… during it. Lights blinked off the globe at the Pole all the time, after all. Thinking about those who had died in that darkest hour, stripped of every comfort that the Guardians represented, made Jack feel sick to his stomach. It was terrible to see Tooth’s face when those boxes surfaced, and she had to send them off to the archives.

One such box gave her pause. Jack saw the moment of bewilderment, then awe, as the color drained from her face. To his surprise, Tooth pried open the box to get a better feel, sorting through the contents with quick fingers. She hissed unheard instructions to the three fairies nearest to her. They zipped away. Tooth closed up the box and added it to the inactive pile.

“Hey, what’s—?” Jack started to ask.

The three little fairies came squeaking back, escorting a fourth who looked distinctly nervous. Tooth held out her hands to it.

“Come here, little one! Let me look at you.”

It wasn’t often that Tooth ignored Jack. He drifted closer, fascinated, watching her deftly check the fairy’s wings, feathers, and eyes, murmuring to herself. She ended with a reassuring kiss on the bright forehead plume.

“You’ll be fine,” she said firmly. “Just listen to your sisters. You belong here, with us.” The little fairy rose from her palms, peeped, and flew off to rejoin the flock.

Jack cleared his throat. “Um… What was that about?”

Tooth shook her head to clear it. “Oh, you know… a new one.” She winced at the look on Jack’s face, smoothing down her headcrest. “It doesn’t happen that often, and of course they’re always so confused at first.”

“Then these are all—wait, what?” Jack glanced around uneasily. “I thought I was the token dead kid.”

“They’re not! I mean, not exactly. They’re only part of a spirit, and they don’t retain their old identity when they become part of the hive, but of course they did experience death recently, so I have to process that…” She took a breath. “I’m sorry. I don’t really want to talk about it, if that’s okay.”

Jack held up his hands. “Oh! No, of course. I’m sorry.”

Thankfully, there were no more new fairies, but Jack saw Tooth a little differently after that.

*

Nobody else seemed to give a second thought to the fact that Tooth had known death a thousand times over. The memory of his own, singular death pulled at Jack more strongly when he visited Punjam Hy Loo, sometimes badly enough to make him drop things. Tooth just carried on working. He found himself breathless in her presence, wondering how she did it.

Wondering what each of them had borne over the centuries.


	2. Master of the Ancient Art

Then came the day when Tooth said, “I think we’re done!”

Jack and Bunny looked up from their conversation over tea, where they had been taking a break on a quiet balcony deep in the archives. The light in Punjam Hy Loo never changed much, melting from rosy sunset to golden afternoon and back again seemingly whenever it pleased. Today, despite the long, slanting beams of red light, the palace held the feel of an empty market square late at night. The tiny fairies were nearly all away working, as was Sandy; the honeycombed shelves were full of active teeth again; North was at the Pole, supervising the cleaning of the Workshop basement as they spoke. She was right: they were done.

“Great,” Bunny said.

“Yeah, wow. That’s great,” Jack echoed.

Tooth fluttered down to land beside them, folding her hands against her lap. Bunny looked at his tea.

“So,” Tooth said after a silence. “Do you have a plan for us? I’m ready whenever you are.”

Bunny gave only the tiniest twitch to his head, the fine fluff at the back of his neck standing up the slightest bit more, before he collected himself; it made Jack think of taking a cobweb to the face in the middle of an open field.

“Right,” Bunny said. “Right. No sense putting it off any more than I have. Let’s get word out. Sandy’s somewhere over Greenland right now, if my sense of time’s still on. Your fairies can handle that; I’ll contact North. See who’s up for it, and when. We’ll go from there.”

North arrived within minutes of receiving Bunny’s message, written in flowers bursting through the basement floor. The four of them spent the next few hours at Punjam Hy Loo, talking and waiting for Sandy, who had insisted on being present for this. Bunny sounded like his usual self, although it seemed to Jack that he spoke less and less. Jack was surprised to learn that even he hadn’t gone back to check on the Warren; they would all be going in cold.

At last, the smallest guardian arrived. Bunny sobered, gave them all a final nod, and tapped his foot.

*

The tunnel dumped them in a dark, open space, a brushy waste somewhere in continental Australia. It was late enough at night that the desert air had gone cold. Jack tipped his head back to see stars undimmed by distant cities’ light bubbles. North called his name a tad sharply; Jack raced to catch up.

Completely silent now, Bunny lead them a short way through a mire of stunted trees that couldn’t rightly call itself a forest. His mood spread to the others; everyone hurried, and no one spoke. Jack jumped as some kind of animal exploded out of a bush right next to him and went thumping away into the night.

Bunny said something up ahead; a moment later, a vivid green glow appeared between the branches. As Jack got closer, it resolved into the curved outline of a door set deep in a jumble of boulders the size of houses. The door melted away at Bunny’s touch, and the others followed him down a spiral of stone steps into a long, low tunnel, bathed at the far end in the familiar springtime light of the Warren.

It should have been reassuring.

Partway down the hall, Jack became aware of a particular smell. Its ghostly prelude had met them at the door, damp and metallic, and crept up until suddenly his eyes were stinging with it. Rotten eggs. Thousands, tens of thousands, all crushed into the mud together with too-sweet hyacinths and lilies. It was a smell of devastation, a battleground smell. If he hadn’t known what it was, he would have thought it smelled like death.

“Crikey,” came Bunny’s choked voice from down the hall.

And again, “Oh, _Crikey_.”

Then Bunny came rushing back up the hall, right past Jack, and was gone up the stairs. Sandy followed close behind.

Jack turned. “Hey-”

Sandy slowed just enough to press a hand firmly to Jack’s shoulder, a wild look in his eyes that said, _Stay_.

Jack watched Sandy’s glow disappear up the stairs. All certainty and comfort in the world left with it. He turned back toward the others at the far end of the tunnel; before he could say anything, Tooth’s silhouette bent sharply toward North. Her whisper carried.

“I shouldn’t have come here. I should leave.”

North’s silhouette reached out for her. “Is not your fault.”

“But I knew this might happen, and I-”

“Toothie, no. Stay. We wait, will all be fine.”

“I could try to lay the scent with cold..?” Jack said, too softly. No one heard him. That was just as well, he thought a few seconds later; the Warren was probably too big for him, and even if he could chill the air enough to deaden the smell, it probably wouldn’t be very good for the plants. And what business did he have, speaking up at a time like this, anyway? He had no idea why Tooth felt responsible for... whatever had gone wrong just now. She’d had nothing to do with the destruction of the Warren; that terrible night, she’d been where she was supposed to be, doing what she was supposed to do. How could she possibly blame herself?

Jack knew exactly whose fault it was.

The three of them waited in silence, North and Tooth framed in the soupy disc of light at the tunnel’s end, while Jack leaned against the wall in the shadows, absently rolling his staff back and forth from one hand to the other, watching the ice on its surface vanish and bloom.

Only a short time later, Sandy’s warm light reappeared, and with it a relaxed and smiling Bunny. The others rushed to meet them.

“Put m’nose to sleep,” Bunny said, tapping it.

“You can do that?” Jack said, just as Tooth said, “Is that new, or have I just never seen it before?”

Sandy merely smiled and shrugged.

“Apologies for the delay,” Bunny said, ushering them toward the Warren’s interior once more. “Come on out, let’s see what the bastard left for us. Jack, don’t go too far without one of us; the realm doesn’t know you that well yet. I’m going in deep to have a look around, but some types that live down here can get hostile fast, ‘specially if they’ve already been hurt.” He paused at the sight beyond the tunnel’s entrance, and blew out his whiskers. “Ah, yeah, this ought to be good. If those nightmares snapped any _mimi_ , I’ll dig him up and bury him again myself.”

*

It was about as bad as Jack remembered, or maybe even a little worse, because the trampled grass had had a chance to wilt the rest of the way and bleach itself. The rolling hills were still littered with candy-colored shell fragments, all the more garish for the magical dye that refused to fade, tawdry against the pale, dead grass in the way of an abandoned theme park. The pathways used by the eggs looked the worst; the flowerbeds lining them remained flattened and lifeless. Not much had repaired itself. There was a pervading sense of dormancy; the morning sky that somehow existed under the Warren’s roof was a pearly grey, as of very early springtime when new shoots didn’t quite dare venture out. There was a strong smell of decay, also very much like early spring, although now that they had stepped into the open air of the Warren, the sharp, rotten tone was fading quickly.

Bunny bounded away and returned with gardening tools—rakes, spades, trowels, and shears, all heaped in a wooden wheelbarrow. It was like he had thrown fresh kindling on a fire. Everyone grabbed whatever was close to hand, and then the guardians scattered.

Jack lost track of what most of them were doing almost immediately. He ran after Tooth, helping her pluck out dead and damaged plants from the flowerbeds. Now and then, Sandy swept by, dragging vast nets of golden sand behind him to comb eggshells out of the grass. Tiny puffs of earthworms’ dreams sprang up in his wake.

The Warren responded, and the light began to change, little by little, until all at once it was a fine, sunny spring day without a cloud in the sky.

It was hot. Jack, in the pocket of cool air that breathed out around his body with or without his staff in hand, didn’t notice how hot it was until he happened to look up from the dirt in front of him and see North, strolling down the lane toward him with a rake, wearing nothing at all. Except a lot of tattoos. Like, a _lot_.

Jack looked down again quickly, but couldn’t stop the loud “uH?” of confusion coming out of his mouth.

Bunny chose that moment to return from wherever he had disappeared to, and, as Sandy, too, appeared in Jack’s peripheral vision and Tooth buzzed by on his other side, he realized this was probably an intentional meeting. It was only then that he noticed the trails of tiny, pale-blue flowers coming from various directions, all leading right to him. Oh. So, definitely an intentional meeting. How long had they all been down here, now? He had no idea.

“North,” Bunny chided. “Can y’not see Jack’s face?”

“No,” said North, “he is hiding it. What? Is tradition in Warren!”

There was laughter as something that sounded like fabric hit someone.

“Just put it on,” said Bunny. “Clearly this part of being human hasn’t worn off him yet.”

“It’s not the being human,” Jack protested from the ground, still very decidedly looking anywhere but North. “It’s the part where’s he’s literally Santa Claus.”

“But you are Guardian,” said North’s blurry figure with a nonchalant wave of its hand. “We are good as family, now. Is no matter.”

“I never wear anything,” Tooth added helpfully. Sandy’s pajamas began to fuzz out of existence.

“Oh my god,” said Jack. Then he cracked up. “Look, it’s fine, I was just surprised. You do you. It’s fine. I don’t care.”

He looked up to see Sandy’s outfit settle into an old-fashioned tank-style bathing costume. Sandy winked and sent up a sand-sign of a pair of chubby little feet taking toddling steps. Jack smiled shyly in return as his face promptly set itself on fire.

North had finished tying on the pale pink gardener’s apron that, from the narrowness of it, could only have been Bunny’s, but it did the job, if marginally. It was still a struggle for Jack to look directly at him without feeling like he was doing something illegal (it was the tattoos; they were incredibly distracting); but then, after what Tooth had said, no one was really safe to look at for the moment.

Bunny cleared his throat. “Right, anyway,” he said. He gestured to the tiny blue flowers, which, having served their purpose, were rapidly wilting, their fragile green stalks and frilly leaves retreating back into the soil. “Jack, now you know what these look like—you can follow them next time, when we meet up at the end. And we are getting toward the end!

“Our next step, which I’m about to start, is, I’m going to open up the nurseries and let a lot of new little green ones out. Nick, Tooth, Sandy, I need you to herd them into their holes.” He paused, smiling at Tooth and North’s nearly-identical squeals of delight. “-And don’t go easy on ‘em just because they’re cute,” he added sternly. “The primroses in particular will waltz off into the ash ‘n set their roots down if you take your eyes off ‘em, horrible little bludgers. This is why we have lacrosse sticks.”

Sandy waved a hand for attention, sending up a flurry of signs in which a snowflake seemed to be the main subject.

“Oh, you bet your sand I do, I’ll get to that,” Bunny answered. “You three can get on; you know how to find the nurseries, I’ll meet you there.”

Jack watched them go and felt a pang of apprehension. Maybe his anxiety earlier had been founded, and his coldness really was bad for the Warren; maybe his part was done, now that it was time to work with living plants instead of dead ones. He really hoped not; he wanted to see what Bunny had meant by “herd.” Would the seedlings come walking along on little feet, like the eggs, or would they creep along on their roots like weird little green land-octopuses?

But Bunny’s face as he motioned for Jack to walk with him didn’t look like he was asking him to leave.

“Jack, I’ve got a question for you. Are your hands always as cold as they’ve been when I’ve touched them? Can you make them colder?”

Jack self-consciously clasped his hands together; he had come to realize in the last month or so that he couldn’t really tell how cold he was, or wasn’t, without someone else’s touch for reference. “Well, yeah, probably,” he said. “I can touch things and make ice happen; I don’t need my staff for that. I guess that makes them cold.”

Bunny steered him toward a row of long, sloping sheds that had definitely not been there moments ago, built of lichen-drenched stone with wooden doors. “What I’m asking,” he said, “is for you to put some ice into the soil for this next lot I’m about to show you. Just a little pop as you’re planting them, like you’re tucking them into bed. I don’t think the realm would like you pointing that stick at it—no offense—but if you can use your hands, that’s crackers.” He lifted the crossbar out of its latch on the first shed, and swung the heavy door aside to let in the light.

It spilled like honey over piles and piles of something that shone like jewels.

They were fat, fist-sized bulbs—glossy-skinned, glowing with vitality but still without a hint of green, their smaller ends coming to a crisp white point. In their hundreds, they were every color of the rainbow and more; here, one shimmered pomegranate, another siren’s-ocean green, purest sky blue, buttercup yellow, seashell pink, the hard, metallic purple of some rainforest beetle, the pale green of glowing mushrooms, even volcanic black. The shimmer they threw into the air above them suggested a sound, something that chimed and rippled and called out imploringly for dirt, for dark earth under fingernails, for soft rains and sunshine. They were too beautiful just to look at, and Jack’s immediate impulse was that he wanted to roll in them, and also lick at least a dozen.

“It’s not every day I get to work with a winter spirit,” Bunny was saying. “And not every day I need to replant anything around here, either. These will love a snap of cold to get them started; we may as well do this right, if you’re up for it. I know it’s not your usual.”

“I love them,” Jack blurted. He turned to Bunny, grinning. “I’ll do whatever you want, just let me touch them!”

Bunny laughed, surprised, and clapped Jack on the shoulder. “Let’s get you a wheelbarrow.”

* 

Some time later, Jack flopped down on his back and let himself fall still at last, watching clouds of springtime mist drift below a sky gone mysterious lavender. Somewhere along the line, he had given in to fashion and lost both his hoodie and the shirt he wore underneath it, but not the pants. The scant grass prickled his bare skin, a rare sensation for someone who usually only ever took his clothes off when surrounded by lots and lots of snow.

At his feet, if he looked down his body, loomed the world’s biggest heap of garden rubbish, or so it felt to those who had helped build it. North lay like a great felled tree off to Jack’s right, still in Bunny’s apron, with Tooth half-draped over one of his arms. They had been there for a while; the two of them seemed to be caught in a particular kind of loop that usually only happens at slumber parties, and kept breaking into silent, wheezing giggles.

Bunny was the last to rest, thumping himself down on Jack’s left with the conviction of a cinderblock.

“It’s done,” he said. “Well. Except for the last bit.” He lay back with a groan and rested one arm over his eyes.

“Oh, yeah?” said Jack. “Do we get to light all that on fire now? No, don’t get up! Jesus.” He threw out an arm to stop Bunny, who had groaned again and tried to rise, and got a luxurious smush of downy chest fluff all the way across his bare arm. “Oh holy shit, that’s soft. Sorry.”

“Let him try behind the ears,” came Tooth’s voice, and Bunny huffed. But he settled more comfortably onto the ground and folded his ears down for a snooze.

Jack thought of something, and looked around. “Oh, hey. Where’s Sandy?”

“Had to go back out,” Bunny said. “Sucks, but it’s not a good time for him to miss work. He’s really swamped right now, dealing with all this.”

“It’s still that bad, huh?” Jack frowned. “How long have we been down here, exactly? If I even want to know.”

Bunny’s eyes were closed. “Hmm... As it would appear to the outside world, since we walked in the front door, we’ve been gone about an hour and thirty-seven minutes.”

“ _What?_ No. That’s. Okay, that’s pretty much the exact opposite of what I expected. I thought this was like a Rip Van Winkle thing, where I’d go outside and Jamie’s an old man now. Well, maybe not that extreme.” Jack bit his lip, thinking again of the Easter’s eve disaster. How much time had actually passed for his friends in the Warren while he’d been outside with Sophie, and then with Pitch?

Bunny had turned to look at him, eyes cracking open just enough to let the mischievous green shine through. “It does as it needs to do, and it doesn’t do it all the same in every place at once,” he said. “That’s the briefest I can tell you, unless you want to start learning Pookan theory. Those bulbs you planted, for example? They think they’ve been sleeping cozy in your ice for... eleven days now, give or take.”

Jack let his head loll back. “What the fuck,” he mouthed, and Bunny looked deeply pleased with himself.

“That’s hope,” Bunny said, only just above a murmur, looking at the pastel ceiling-sky. “Time is hope. As long as there’s time, you can imagine that things will change for the better. I was unspeakably lucky to find this place, when I came here.” He breathed in deep, let it out slowly, and lay still for just a moment longer.

Then, incredibly, he was up, on his feet and busily dusting out his fur as though he’d never been tired. Jack squinted up at him as bits of dried grass threatened to fall into his eyes.

“Right,” said Bunny. “All that talk’s got me excited to finish fixing my home, so if you don’t mind...”

He took two steps toward the mountain of dead and dying plants, crushed baskets, thatch, and eggshells, and thumped his foot down hard, with a curving motion out to one side.

**C r a c k**

The others scrambled backward as the ground trembled, the entire rubbish pile tumbling in pieces as the earth opened under it.

_WOOMNCH_

The earth closed like a fist, leaving only a large, round scar of compacted dirt and a lingering metallic smell. The thing reminded Jack of a crop circle, or like a fairies’ dance floor from old stories, eerily round and level and screaming of recent visitations. Jack stepped one foot onto it and jumped back; the dirt was hot to the touch.

“Little warning?” said North, who looked a bit muzzy.

Bunny had produced North’s clothes out of nowhere, and started handing them back. “Not sorry. You two needed waking up. I know Sandy was throwing dreamsand around like it’s money and he’s a millionaire, but this isn’t the time for a great big crash on the lawn.”

“You could make it be the time,” Tooth complained, but she came over and gave Bunny a hug. “I’m sensing that it may be time for us to leave.”

Bunny nodded. “Got to put the finishing touches on myself.”

“Bunnyyy,” said North cajolingly. He was pulling on the last of his outfit, as Jack stood facing the other way. “If is last finishing touch I expect, why not let us stay? It has been so long since I have seen it.” Tooth was quick to add her agreement.

“Has anyone seen my-” Jack was interrupted by Bunny’s arms coming into his field of vision, carrying his sweatshirt, shirt, and staff. He turned to take them. “Oh, thanks.”

“No, no, no,” Bunny was answering North. His nose and the insides of his ears had turned salmon red. “This is Easter business. Me, myself, and I. Can’t have people watching.”

“All of Warren could be watching,” North argued.

“That’s different. Now, get. The door is that way.”

North and Tooth wandered off in that direction, still protesting, and Jack trailed behind them. They were already in the cover of trees when Jack looked back. Bunny was walking out to the center of the bare dirt, his back to the place where his friends had gone.

Jack’s mind was made up in an instant. It was often that way; he didn’t _choose_ to misbehave, it just um. Happened. The perfection of the day was fizzing in his veins, and after all, if the others had watched before, it meant he wouldn’t mess anything up by watching now, right? He slipped noiselessly off the path and up a nearby outcropping of rock, using North’s retreating footsteps as cover for his own. He found a perfect vantage point behind a boulder.

Bunny shed his bandolier and bracers, dropping them outside the circle. Then he returned to the center and stood poised, the unbroken, glossy sheet of his fur making him look even taller and more otherworldly, like rain made corporeal. The Warren fell silent with a suddenness that pressed on Jack’s eardrums; the air became heavy with humidity that held a green tint.

Bunny breathed in, and the Warren breathed with him. He raised himself up on his toes, lifted his arms, and began to move.

From the first effervescent leap, it had the hallmarks of a dance, but Jack had never seen it before. He recognized the strength and balance of Tai Chi, but it wasn’t. It was closer to the wild, joyful leaping of rabbits whose happiness on a peaceful, sun-slanted afternoon became so overwhelming that it erupted out of them—yet Bunny’s movements were so precise and fluid, his feet landing so exactly where they needed to be, that it could only have been a well-rehearsed choreography. It was something ancient and inexorable as the sun’s path across the sky. The green air lifted itself into motion, bringing a rush of energy that tingled like the last breath of winter, and Jack saw, with each swoop of Bunny’s graceful form, new green rising up from the hills.

Jack smiled—and Bunny’s ear swiveled. Shit. How could he hear a smile?

“FROST!”

Jack’s heart was pounding, but what could he do? “Well, hey,” he said, hopping into view. “You can’t be all, ‘I work alone! None may witness!’ as the spirit of Easter. Cuz I’m like, what could it be? Blood sacrifice? Ritual sex?”

“The fuck is wrong with you? Get out!” Bunny thumped his foot and gestured grandly to the resulting tunnel.

Jack flew down, grinning. “Nice form, by the way. I could’ve watched that all day.”

The corner of Bunny’s mouth twitched. “Out.”

“All right, all right, I’m going.” He couldn’t resist adding, “From what the yetis told us, it’s really too bad it never came down to a dance-off between you and Pitch-”

Bunny kicked him into the pit. The tunnel spat him out in the wilderness outside the Workshop. Jack coughed snow out of his mouth. “Pleh! Grouch.”


	3. An Interlude

The other Guardians may have lost touch with children in favor of childhood as a whole, but their attention to detail ran deep.

Jack had a long history of looking away from all the terrible things he couldn’t change. It had gotten too painful, not being able to affect anything anyway, but now he wished he hadn't let those skills go. He wasn’t good with details, all the hidden, internal things that could make or break a person. The others dealt with little else. It took some getting used to; they were so intense, and not at all in a stuffy-serious-grownup way, as he once imagined. It wasn’t simple bribery, either, which Jack felt thoroughly ashamed for ever thinking. They threw themselves headlong into the most distressing problems of childhood, caring so fiercely that it had to hurt.

Meanwhile, Jack floundered. Maybe his center would eventually prove more flexible than he thought, but he sure wasn’t feeling it yet. He dreaded what would happen when the urgent work was over. He’d done what the Man in the Moon called him for, defeating Pitch and accepting his new role. What came next? He didn’t have a special task or a holiday. There were children who couldn’t go outside, kids too sick to play, too physically compromised to laugh. What was he supposed to do for them? Never mind all the ones who lived in hot climates where he couldn’t even go.

Everyone else went wherever they pleased, and had many more tricks at their disposal. Sandy was the most impressive, as far as Jack was concerned. The tiny Guardian was a living contradiction. Most kids didn’t consciously know about the Sandman; he was least-likely to be seen, had no holiday, and left no physical signs of his presence, save a slight grittiness in the corner of the eye. Kids might lie awake listening for sleigh bells, hopping feet, or the buzz of wings, but no one watched for Sandy. He didn’t need them to. Young, old, believer, skeptic, it didn’t matter; the Sandman lived quietly in a secret part of the psyche and affected absolutely everyone. How did one person get so strong?

For what remained of the short spring, Jack took to decorating children’s hospital windows with frost every chance he got. Maybe it would count for something.


	4. Christmas

Summer brought with it a strange growing sensation, creeping under Jack’s skin like ocean ice, a little each day. It took him until August to connect the feeling to the lights on North’s globe; if he watched carefully, he could even catch the moment when another one would take on the special glow that meant another child had heard his name, and believed in him, now. He tried not to hang around the globe too much; it made the others nervous, knowing that _he_ knew how little of a safety net he still had. He’d kind of wondered if he might get suddenly weaker, at first, like the others had been when their own numbers sank so low. But he never did.

It was the opposite, really, although it wasn’t until North passed him a bowl of soup in the middle of a mild argument around the kitchen table at the Pole, and Jack effortlessly froze it solid without meaning to, that he began to worry. It wasn’t as if he never thought about the destruction he’d caused in the past; winter storms were no laughing matter, once he’d learned... well... not to laugh about them.

He had kind of hoped it would all stay in the past, though.

“No, no,” North said, shaking his head, when Jack apologized later. “Is no matter. We all went through troubles with our powers.”

Jack hugged himself tighter. “Okay, so how did you fix it?”

“With time.” North studied Jack’s face. “I will say, I think we had it easier than you. Sandy, Tooth, Bunny, all were raised with magic. And me? I went looking for it. You were thrown into it, and you had no guide for a long, long time.” He glanced upward, suddenly subdued. “And I do blame Manny for that. I do. And now, you are having to deal with many changes, very quickly.” He brightened again. “So, is good that you have such smart, good friends! You come to us when you need to. You should find that you can do more with your powers than you ever dreamed! I will say, do not panic, if, you know, your hair gets-” North made motions around his own head with his hands. “-maybe more spiky? Or your skin maybe gets, hmm, blue-”

“Whoa, whoa- I might _look_ different?” Jack interrupted, half-rising from his seat.

“You may. Do you think I always looked the way I do now?” North winked. “No. The children, and the cultures, change us over centuries.”

Jack settled back down. “Great,” he muttered. “Oh, uh, that reminds me, though. I’ve been wanting to ask, and this may sound really weird, but uh. Some of the others, like Sandy? They’re not exactly from around here, are they? I’ve just never seen anything like Sandy that wasn’t from outer space—not gonna lie, but don’t tell him I said that.”

North laughed. “Yes! Very perceptive. You are right: Sandy and Bunny are not of this earth.”

“Wh- Bunny? I thought Tooth was an alien, for sure!”

“Toothie is native to India. Moon’s power tends to bleach everything it touches.” He flicked a piece of Jack’s hair.

“Wow.” Jack squinted. “Bunny, though? Really? Man, that’s weird. You’re human, though, right?” North gave him a look. “Right.” He sat for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek, then finally voiced a question that had been rolling in the back of his mind in various forms since Easter: “What about Pitch?”

“You want to know about Pitch? Ah. Is a bit of history. You see, he is of the same world as our Sandy. Yes, it is hard to believe,” said North to Jack’s inarticulate noise of surprise. “So is Manny, in fact. All go way back. Waaay back.” He sighed.

“It sounds like kind of a heavy story?” Jack ventured.

North nodded. “I do not know all of it, by any means,” he said. “Only Sandy knows—and maybe Pitch. But that one is in no position to be telling anybody old stories.” He grinned, sharp, like he couldn’t help himself, and Jack reflected again that he was glad they were on the same side.

“Is growing pains you are having,” North said, getting back on topic. He clapped Jack on the back, nearly knocking him over. “All to be expected when you are becoming one of the most powerful beings in the world!”

What Jack didn’t say before he left was, _But I bet your powers never killed anyone._

 

As the months wore on, North seemed to be right that Jack’s problem was simply growing pains; its echo could be felt in a set of Jackson Overland’s memories from the same year he had died, of creaking joints that suddenly hurt for no good reason only to clear up in a week, and of dizzying hunger, and of the ground constantly slipping further and further away from him seemingly overnight.

That was about as useful as Jackson Overland’s memories ever got, however, and the rest of North’s predictions seemed not to be coming true anytime soon. It was only the strange feeling of being stretched from within, and an increasing tendency to leave icy footprints and flurries in his wake, that told Jack things were changing.

 

*

 

That first Christmas was a rocky one. North assured Jack over and over that this was not a good example of Christmas at the Workshop, and not to worry, he would see the real thing next year. Jack tried to take his words to heart, but the difficulties at the Pole were alarming. The children’s letters carried heavier sentiments and fewer gift requests than usual. On top of that, behavior problems arising during and after Pitch’s interference had scrambled the Nice and Naughty lists. Some of the more sensitive yetis were still shaken, suffering anxiety and artists’ blocks.

North seemed as hale and hearty as he’d ever been, guffawing his way through the preparations, but his fellow Guardians watched their friend carefully. No one had to say it; they all knew none of them would breathe freely until the 26th. Even the elves seemed to understand, and caused less trouble than usual. Or maybe that was because Jack took time out to play with them—at least until North caught him and gave him a talk about keeping up with his own duties out in the world.

“This is the busiest time of year for both of us! You go out there and snow in one dozen towns—this minute, young man. You need the believers. No, do not argue. I will throw you out of window myself.”

Being treated like a kid was annoying, and Jack was ready to make a scene and refuse to leave, until it occurred to him that spreading snow around would help put people in the mood for Christmas. He went to it with a will, making up for a long, drab autumn with the most beautiful snowfalls he could manage. North was right about the believers, too; with each day that dawned white, Jack felt their numbers rising. The strange growing sensation got stronger, and he became even more painfully aware of just how powerful the other Guardians must be.

And yet, a single well-placed arrow less than a year ago had nearly killed them all in a matter of days. It was something to think about.

 

On Christmas Eve, all of the Guardians made it clear to North that they considered themselves on-call. Though there had still been no sign whatsoever of Pitch, everyone half-expected an attack. North finally gave up trying to make the others leave. Bunnymund vanished underground, monitoring the roots of cities, scouting for trouble in the shadows of the earth. Tooth flew alongside the sleigh all night with her battle feathers up.

Nothing happened. But the residue of Pitch’s actions made its insidious mark on Christmas, after all. Over the months, Tooth and Sandy had reported many thousands of children still suffering insomnia. The excitement of Christmas Eve always kept some kids up late. This year was like nothing North had ever seen. Sandy wound up flying ahead, dusting whole districts if he had to. The rushed pace wore him out. By the end of the night, Jack had left the sleigh to ride with him, pressing cool hands to his forehead and handing him bits of ice to squeeze whenever he started nodding off.

When they finally regrouped at the Pole, a still-laughing and disheveled North all but ordered everyone to get some rest. A small contingent of yetis—Jack recognized the guard unit from past misadventures—took charge of the reindeer; the rest were already asleep. North’s footsteps echoed in the Workshop.

“What did I tell you?” he said, hanging up his coat. “A little tough, but overall, went off without a Pi—a hitch.”

“I think Sandy just passed out,” said Jack.

“Bah!” North stumped over and gently plucked Sandy from Jack’s arms. “Give him to me. Not to worry. Merry Christmas, my friends! You must all stay here, if you like. We are for bed.” Half-choking each of them in turn with a one-armed hug, North disappeared into his rooms with Sandy still slung over his shoulder. Jack shot a look at Bunny.

“Hm? They sleep together every year,” said Bunny, not really paying attention, brushing down his fur where North had mussed it. The look on Jack’s face woke him up a little. “I mean—no. Not like that! I don’t think.”

“Not like what?” said Jack innocently.

Bunny rolled his eyes. “Nothing. ‘M too tired to be talking.”

“Are you staying here?” asked Tooth from Jack’s other side.

“Don’t think so,” said Bunny. “Woke up with an elf walking across my face last time. No, thank you.”

“Well, then, take care, Aster.”

“Hm. You, too. See ya, Jack.”

A tunnel took Bunny away, and Jack looked at Tooth. He found he didn’t like the idea of being awake in the Workshop with no one around to talk to. Sluggish ropes of dreamsand were already creeping through the halls like anacondas. “What about you? Are you staying?”

“No,” she said regretfully. “Too much to do.” She gave him a quick hug. “Sleep while you can, Jack. They’ll wake up in a day, give or take a few hours. It’s their one big sleep of the year.”

“Right. Goodnight, Tooth. Merry Christmas.”

Jack wandered the empty Workshop for a while before the atmosphere got to him. He went up to his room with its squashy blue-and-white bedspread, round white end tables, and permanently-dark fireplace that housed a sea chest instead of a grate. Some yeti had been in here to close and lock the windows. His staff went on a hook by the door.

He threw his clothes in a heap on top of the sea chest and rolled himself up in the comforter, feeling like a hermit crab. Or maybe a caterpillar. Yes, definitely a caterpillar. He practiced inching like an inchworm, and nearly fell off the bed. It was so much easier to play than sleep. He could lie here for the entire twenty-four hours telling himself stories, if it came to that. But Tooth was probably right; Guardians took their rest when they could, and he had the better part of winter ahead of him.

On the edge of his vision, dreamsand coiled innocently around a bedpost. It was hard not to think of it as a hunting python. That would make Jack some kind of small jungle creature hiding inside a log. Perhaps the floor was a body of water he would have to cross to get to safety… he was doing it again. He didn’t know why he was so reluctant to dream. Everyone else acted like it was some sort of spa treatment, so what was wrong with him?

Jack grumbled and tucked his head inside the comforter. “Fine. Do your worst.”

It would be the first time he’d slept since becoming a Guardian.

 

*

 

It was dark, and Jack had no clue where he was. Half-remembered images faded rapidly. A wild clamor in his chest was not his heartbeat. Pressure. Grit against his face. Hands holding him down? Whose hands? Something fought against his limbs—he couldn’t move—he couldn’t see—was that a circle of light above his head? He craned to look. Yes! There was the light—and a round, white end table beyond it.

_Oh_. His whole body went limp.

“Note to self: never sleep rolled-up again,” he said under his breath. The panic faded… but the clamor did not. Understanding that Jack was too confused to sort things out just yet, his body chose to classify the feeling as nausea until further notice. Jack hauled himself out of his blanket cocoon, groaning, and saw blank white windows.

“The fuck?”

For long moments, he just lay there in the dim light, staring at what could only be a world-class blizzard outside the Workshop. It didn’t snow here. Not like that. It just didn’t. There wasn’t enough moisture, and it was too cold, and… 

_The feeling was believers_. New ones. Masses of them. Masses of power. He’d missed the build-up while he slept. He shot out of bed, into his clothes, and out the bedroom door.

North looked up as Jack came crashing into the kitchen. He was seated at the small table by the stove, wearing a cuddly-looking green dressing gown and slippers, a sketchbook open before him. He put down his stick of charcoal.

“Jack! Good afternoon,” he said, eyes twinkling. He gestured to a steaming teacup. “Ginger tea? There is hot water in kettle.”

“Globe,” Jack blurted. North stifled laughter behind one large hand. He waved Jack over to the table.

“Sit. You are white as linens.” He raised his eyebrows. “Do you want to talk about the blizzard?”

Jack nearly collapsed into a chair. “I didn’t mean for it to do that! I must’ve had a dream that made me really sad or something…” He clutched his chest. “I didn’t know it would be like this. North, I just… Where did all these kids come from? Why all at once, why now?” He stopped. North was laughing openly. “…North?”

North clapped him on the shoulder. “I felt that it was your time. Your name is part of Christmas for many years; this year, I gave you little boost. Maybe Sandy did, too.”

“Right. Little. Yeah. Where is Sandy?”

“He went back to work. No, do not worry, he left before the weather.”

North was studying him, watching for some reaction or other.

“Um. Thanks?” he offered. _That sounded rude…_ He still had a hand to his chest; he lowered it self-consciously and tried a smile. “No, yeah, thank you. It means a lot. I just don’t know what to do now.”

“You do what you were made to do,” said North. “You go out there and you play.”

“But you still have New Year’s, and then Easter’s in just—”

“Play. We know where to find you. All will work out, Jack. Trust me.”

 

*

 

_Play is different now. This is not a private theme park anymore. No more screaming down the street at three in the morning when little ones might wake because they hear you. They hear you._

 

_Daylight is lava. If anyone sees you, that’s falling in. Instant death!_

 

_Humans are much less perceptive than the rabbits you stalked through the woods when you were bored. Staying out of their way is a little too easy. You’ll try your best to enjoy this, as a top-level secret agent, or sneaking Cheshire in the trees, or some kind of prey yourself._

 

_Roll yourself up in the night._

 

_Tell as many stories as it takes._

 

_Play at the invisibility you worked so hard to lose._

 


End file.
